Fouquet, who claimed the jurisdiction of the Parliament, had at first refused to answer the interrogatory; it was determined to conduct his case “as if he were dumb,” but his friends had him advised not to persist in his silence.  The courage and presence of mind of the accused more than once embarrassed his judges.  The ridiculous scheme which had been discovered behind a looking-glass in Fouquet’s country-house was read; the instructions given to his friends in case of his arrest seemed to foreshadow a rebellion; Fouquet listened, with his eyes bent upon the crucifix.  “You cannot be ignorant that this is a state-crime,” said the chancellor.  “I confess that it is outrageous, sir,” replied the accused; “but it is not a state-crime.  I entreat these gentlemen,” turning to the judges, “to kindly allow me to explain what a state-crime is.  It is when you hold a chief office, when you are in the secrets of your prince, and when, all at once, you range yourself on the side of his enemies, enlist all your family in the same interest, cause the passes to be given up by your son-in-law, and the gates to be opened to a foreign army, so as to introduce it into the heart of the kingdom.  That, gentlemen, is what is called a state-crime.”  The chancellor could not protest; nobody had forgotten his conduct during the Fronde.  M. d’Ormesson summed up for banishment, and confiscation of all the property of the accused; it was all that the friends of Fouquet could hope for.  M. de Sainte-Helene summed up for beheadal.  “The only proper punishment for him would be rope and gallows,” exclaimed M. Pussort, the most violent of the whole court against the accused; “but, in consideration of the offices he has held, and the distinguished relatives he has, I relent so far as to accept the opinion of M. de Sainte-Helene.”  “What say you to this moderation?” writes Madame de Sevigne to M. de Pomponne, like herself a faithful friend of Fouquet’s:  “it is because he is Colbert’s uncle, and was objected to, that he was inclined for such handsome treatment.  As for me, I am beside myself when I think of such infamy. . . .  You must know that M. Colbert is in such a rage that there is apprehension of some atrocity and injustice which will drive us all to despair.  If it were not for that, my poor dear sir, in the position in which we now are, we might hope to see our friend, although very unfortunate, at any rate with his life safe, which is a great matter.”

“Pray much to your God and entreat your judges,” was the message sent to Mesdames Fouquet by the queen-Snother, “for, so far as the king is concerned, there is nothing to be expected.”  “If he is sentenced, I shall leave him to die,” proclaimed Louis XIV.  Fouquet was not sentenced; the court declared for the view of Oliver d’Ormesson.  “Praise God, sir, and thank Him,” wrote Madame de Sevigne, on the 20th of December, 1664, “our poor friend is saved; it was thirteen for M. d’Ormesson’s summing-up, and nine for